


Nearest Thing to Heaven

by lastSaskatchewanPirate



Series: Metaphorical Coffee [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Consensual Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Sex, M/M, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 11:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11690757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastSaskatchewanPirate/pseuds/lastSaskatchewanPirate
Summary: A good night's sleep is nice.  Being able to take your time is even better.





	Nearest Thing to Heaven

Rodimus loitered in the doorway, a coffee mug in each hand, and took a moment to savor the view.

Megatron was currently sprawled across the bed in an attitude of complete relaxation, face-down and dead to the world. The top sheet had been thoroughly discombobulated and was twined around his hips and legs like a fig vine, and the battered t-shirt he’d been wearing when he finally succumbed to exhaustion was rucked up high enough to expose the deep lumbar groove of his spine and the shadow bands delineating his lower ribs. One bare foot hung off the edge of the bed, and he was aggressively cuddling both pillows.

Rodimus was charmed.

He was also completely unsurprised; Megatron had been up and moving for almost forty-eight hours straight, trying to help Rung deal with a runaway situation that had gone disastrously wrong. Rodimus, Drift, and part of the Rod Squad had pitched in to help, but it had finally required the involvement of Orion Pax in all his official official-ness to completely resolve.

It had also, at one point, required the demolition of a cinder block wall. Watching Megatron swing a twenty-pound sledgehammer was going to feature on frequent repeat in Roddy’s spank bank for the foreseeable future.

Regardless of how draining the ordeal had been for Rodimus and the party posse, the fact remained that it had been far more work, and far less fun, for Megatron, and both Rung and Drift had been fairly adamant that he get some fucking sleep once it was over. Rodimus, naturally, had taken the opportunity to point out that his apartment was closer than Megatron’s, that it was so late at night that it was actually early, and that, besides, he still owed Megatron for letting him crash on the couch that one time.

It said a lot about Megatron’s state of mind at that point that he had just blinked at Rodimus once or twice and then grunted assent.

… and here they were, eight hours later. Rodimus had been able to persuade Megatron to ditch shoes, socks, and jeans – mostly on the pretext that they were filthy and that grinding cement dust into Rodimus’s sheets was just rude, seriously, were you born in a barn? – and had tossed Megatron’s clothes into the washing machine with his own, and in that short intervening time Megatron had fallen into the sleep of the dead all over Roddy’s kantha quilt collection. Rodimus had merely smiled indulgently – the snuffling noises Megatron was making in his sleep had a fair amount to do with that – and bunked down on his own couch, which was significantly more comfortable than Megatron’s and didn’t have to be shared with Ravage, either.

Now, however, rejuvenated by sleep and coffee, Rodimus had a different perspective on the long-limbed body starfished across his bed. He also had an increasingly burning need to do something about the fact that Megatron’s ass was in an unusually grab-able position. With the sheets draped just so, the view reminded Rodimus of certain classical sculptures … but patting this particular bottom would theoretically yield far better results than getting kicked out of the museum for molesting the Rodin bronzes. 

Before any posterior-patting plans could be put into action, though, there was movement from the bed. Megatron stretched luxuriously and rolled onto his back, arms still over his head, eyes still closed.

The fact that he found the way Megatron curled and uncurled his toes while stretching was, Rodimus had to acknowledge, a pretty sure sign he was besotted.

On the other hand, Megatron rolling over onto his back had revealed some significantly more _significant_ topography, as it were, and Rodimus found his attention quite thoroughly diverted from the man’s feet.

A low laugh dragged his attention back up toward Megatron’s face, and Rodimus saw that one eye was open and a smirk was curving Megatron’s mouth into a sensual, predatory shape that was probably illegal in most states. “Enjoying the view?” That deep voice was gravelly with sleep and did warm, squirmy things to Rodimus’s insides.

“Fuck yeah.” Rodimus delivered his own smirk, and pointedly leaned against the doorjamb to sip his coffee and unabashedly ogle his guest’s morning wood.

Megatron’s grin sharpened, and he gestured toward Rodimus with his chin. “You gonna bring that over here, or do I just have to lie here and suffer?”

 _Score_. Apparently the combination of being in a good mood and being horny added up to an unexpectedly playful Megatron, and Rodimus did a little jig of glee in his head. Outwardly, he let his own little smirk – which was fucking sexy in its own right, thank you very goddamn much – broaden while he gestured with the coffee mugs.

“What exactly would it be that you want brought over there? You want this?” – he brandished one mug – “or this?” as he gestured down the line of his body – clad in a faded Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of low-slung briefs – with the other.

Megatron grinned like a shark, eyes dilated and a flush starting to rise on his cheeks. “Oh, the coffee, definitely.”

Rodimus snorted. “Yeah, okay. For that? You get to suffer.” He drank from the other mug this time, pointedly, and made an eager little moaning noise as he swallowed.

There was a faint whine from the bed, and the sheets rustled as Megatron squirmed. Rodimus noticed that he still had his hands up above his head. _Interesting_. He bit his lip, considering, and then approached the bed, coffee mugs still in hand. Megatron watched him come with dark, eager eyes, and Rodimus shivered a little at the intensity of that stare.

He set the mugs on the bedside table and turned to face Megatron. “You okay with a little consensual suffering?”

“What do you have in mind?” And yeah, that low thrumming note in Megatron’s voice sure sounded like a _yes_ , but Roddy wanted to be absolutely certain.

Rodimus hummed a little to himself and scanned the panorama before him. Jesus fuck, but it was worth taking his time to look at – Megatron was stretched out, hands above his head and wrists crossed, shirt riding up almost to the armpits, sheet and boxers riding low across his hips; chest rising and falling a little quicker as his breathing sped up; and judging by the tent he was pitching, any disinterest he might have been feigning was a total lie.

“What do I have in mind?” Rodimus murmured, sliding one hand absently down the center line of his body to cup the front of his briefs and squeeze. “How ‘bout this – you just lie there like that,” and the hand slid back up his body to join the other as Rodimus gripped the hem of his shirt, “and I climb onto this bed and rub myself all over you?” He whipped the shirt off and tossed it over his shoulder, leaning forward to plant his hands on the edge of the bed and grin at Megatron.

Megatron’s eyes were so dilated that they were almost black, and his voice had dropped to an infrasonic rumble. “Anything else?”

“Oh yeah.” Rodimus clambered onto the bed and straddled Megatron’s legs at the knee, carefully not allowing their bodies to touch as he ran his hands over his own skin, slow and sensual. “I think you should keep your hands right there – if you think you can,” and yeah, throwing a challenge in there was exactly the way to play this, given the tremor wracking Megatron’s body at those words, “while I have my wicked, wicked way with you.”

Megatron’s eyes followed Rodimus’s hands as they stroked down long lean thighs, across ribs and belly and chest; followed clever, tapered fingers as they flicked and teased and dipped into warm secret spaces. “And what, exactly, does that entail?”

Rodimus purred, arched his back and rolled his hips – still not touching, carefully not touching – and very deliberately sucked two fingers into his mouth before pulling them out with a wet _pop_. “You tell me.”

Megatron gasped out a laugh and let his head fall back, eyes closing. “ _Fuck_ , Rodimus, put your mouth on me, I don’t care where, just get on with it.”

“Well, if you insist.” Rodimus scooted himself further up Megatron’s body until his knees bracketed Megatron’s ribs, and leaned down to kiss him soundly. Megatron leaned up to catch Rodimus’s mouth, kissing back with tongue and teeth and lips and building, burning need. 

Rodimus finally broke away with a gasp of his own, pulse tripping, and sat back on his heels to grab Megatron’s shirt. “First things first,” and his own voice had dropped, raspy with arousal, “you are way too dressed, still;” and as Megatron started to shift his hands, Roddy pressed him back to the bed with both hands on Megatron’s sternum. “Ah-ah … let me.”

Rodimus’s grin was echoed as Megatron returned his hands to their position above his head, as Rodimus slid his hands over Megatron’s ribs to draw the shirt up and off in a slow, sensual, caressing slide; as Rodimus dipped his head to press open-mouthed kisses along Megatron’s jaw and neck and clavicle, and then rubbed his cheeks against the sparse, crisp hair fanning out across Megatron’s chest.

Megatron squirmed a little, chasing contact with his body, and Rodimus gave him a reproving little nip that made him jump and gasp another choked, brief laugh. “Rodimus …”

“What, giving up already?” Rodimus soothed the mark his teeth had left with lips and tongue, meeting Megatron’s gaze with a wicked, challenging grin. “Can’t take it? Need to stop?”

“ _No_ ,” Megatron growled, and Rodimus laughed as he continued licking and kissing and nipping his way down, following the arch of ribs and the lines of abdominal muscle, down to the brushstroke start of a treasure trail below Megatron’s navel. He took a moment to plant a frankly obscene, sucking kiss on the umbilical scar that caused Megatron to twitch spastically – holy fuck, was he ticklish? That was _priceless_ – and then paused deliberately as something hot and hard flexed against his jawline.

For a split second, Rodimus considered playing coy and dragging things out a little longer, just to make Megatron writhe and huff and snark at him some more. That would require more patience on his part than he was willing to exert at this point, though; patience that he wasn’t exactly known for under the most patience-enabling circumstances, which these were _really fucking not_ ; and besides, he could make Megatron writhe and huff and snark at him in other ways, too. Other ways that were going to be even more fun for both of them than extended teasing and denial, that was for damn sure.

Rodimus sat up, Megatron’s body rising below him in a wave to follow his retreat, and stroked one finger down that straining erection. Megatron spat a curse and let his legs splay open further, and glared at Rodimus with as much ferocity as he could muster at the moment.

“Problem?” Rodimus inquired with false innocence, and stroked that finger back up. Megatron opened his mouth to unleash what was certain to be a blistering tirade, but Rodimus beat him to the punch by diving in, snagging the edge of the sheet in his teeth, and dragging it off the bed with a flourish.

Megatron sucked in a deep breath.

So did Rodimus.

Megatron was still wearing his boring-as-hell grey boxer briefs, but his erection had almost escaped the fly. The flush on his cheekbones had spread all the way down his chest, sweat was beading on his upper lip and temples, and his hands – still obediently held above his head – were clenched into fists, drawing every muscle in his arms taut.

Rodimus just stared for a slack-jawed second before grinning like a maniac and lunging forward to wrestle Megatron out of his underwear in record time. Megatron’s cock was exposed just long enough for Roddy to zero in, and then he was on it with mouth and tongue and hot, wanton, suckling kisses. Megatron made a noise that he would never ever admit to – a sort of compressed squeak – as Rodimus wrapped one hand around the base, opened his mouth, and took the hot, smooth head between tongue and soft palate.

Megatron moaned. Rodimus smirked as much as he could around that jaw-stretching mouthful, and proceeded to indulge his oral fixation for a while.

That while wasn’t really long enough for either of them, but Rodimus was a little out of practice, and Megatron was honestly bigger than anyone he’d been with by a not-insignificant margin; and so Rodimus was eventually forced to pull off and work his jaw back into position.

“Sorry,” he muttered, back-handing drool off his chin, and Megatron shook his head against the pillows, gulping air like a landed trout.

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize unless you don’t intend to finish.”

“Oh, we are so gonna finish this.” Rodimus grinned. “You game?”

Megatron clenched his jaw and both hands. “For what, exactly?”

“Mmh.” Rodimus rose to his knees long enough to pull off his briefs and fling them into the abyss with the rest of their clothing. “For a ride.”

“A …” Megatron wheezed. Whether that was due to his blood pressure or the fact that Rodimus had just pushed two fingers into himself with an obscene squelching noise didn’t really matter. Rodimus grimaced in mingled pleasure and pain, and added another finger.

It was when Rodimus added a fourth that Megatron snapped.

“ _Jesus fuck_ , Rodimus … Get up here and _RIDE ME_.”

That was a voice and an order to obey if Rodimus had ever heard one, and he scrambled up to straddle Megatron’s waist, knees tucked against Megatron’s ribs, and brought his pelvis down in a long, lewd grind.

Megatron swore like a man who had spent two-and-a-half decades in a maximum-security prison.

Okay, that was _awesome_. Tempted as Rodimus was to do it again, though, he didn’t have any more patience left than Megatron. He rocked higher onto his knees until the lips of his vulva just barely pressed against the glans of Megatron’s cock in a sticky, eager kiss, and then rolled his hips to sink down.

Rodimus whined high in his throat, feeling his body open; feeling the pressure, the _fullness_ , the heat of penetration; rising up just to press down a little further, take his partner a little deeper; rising and falling and rocking and _more_ and _deeper_ and … and … and …

Jesus, Megatron made the Bandit feel like a fuckin’ baby carrot; Rodimus was gonna be wrecked for anyone – anything – everything – else for life; hell, he was gonna be wrecked long before they were done here …

A long, low moan escaped him as he bottomed out. Rodimus shuddered convulsively, taking a moment to just fucking breathe and feel and … and then he clenched involuntarily and Megatron bucked, gasping out a string of profanity that Rodimus would have applauded for its creativity under other circumstances but was too busy seeing stars as _all that friction_ – inside and out – lit him up like a goddamn Christmas tree and left him dazed and breathless.

“Roddy …” Megatron gritted out through clenched teeth, “god, _please_ , Roddy, _move_.”

So he did. They did. Moving like a wave, moving like a tsunami, like an avalanche, like a force of nature; Rodimus rolled his hips, circling, grinding, riding Megatron like they were two parts of a seamless whole; done with teasing, done with foreplay, done with everything else but two bodies in motion together, chasing each other’s ecstasy.

Rodimus felt it gather in his belly, in his thighs and the cradle of his pelvis, felt it crest and swell and finally break, tipping him over the edge into shuddering freefall. Beneath him, he felt Megatron’s body surge, heels digging hard into the bed as he thrust helplessly and came shouting, voice stripped to a hoarse rasp by the tectonic force of orgasm.

There was a breathless moment, and then Rodimus wilted into a sticky, sated, boneless heap across Megatron’s heaving chest, and by mutual assent neither of them were inclined to move until their feet stopped tingling.

Rodimus made himself comfortable with a happy little purr, and Megatron laughed softly and finally brought his arms down into an embrace.

“So … the whole submission thing doesn’t really turn your crank, does it?” Rodimus asked after a decent interval for recuperation and oxygenation.

“Not really.” Megatron rubbed one big, warm hand gently from Roddy’s nape to sacrum and then back in a soothing rhythm. “And domination is, uh … a little too easy,” he added wryly, and Rodimus giggled into his chest. “But a little consensual play once in a while is just fine, if you wanted to try this – or something else – again sometime.”

Rodimus hummed contentedly and tucked himself a little more securely under Megatron’s arm, and then wriggled with delight as that arm tightened in a brief hug. “Maybe sometime,” he agreed muzzily. “Not right now, though. Nap now.”

That big warm hand stroking his back hesitated, and then slid further southward to cup Rodimus’s ass and then squeeze gently. “Nap now?” Megatron asked, and there was a warm, teasing note in his voice that Rodimus rarely – if ever – heard. “You sure?” The hand kneaded gently before returning to its soothing strokes, but Rodimus shivered and buried his face in Megatron’s shoulder to hide his grin.

“Well …” He turned his head enough to press a warm, open-mouthed kiss to the smooth skin he’d been nuzzling. “I suppose I could be persuaded to listen to a counter-offer, if you think you have a good one …”


End file.
